Seatreader
by seatreader
Summary: The story of a man who, hundreds of years after the battle of Yavin IV, sets out to find a purpose in a life that seemingly had none.
1. Chapter 1

Xzhar ducked as a burst of blaster fire blew over his head, taking cover behind the crumbling walls of what had once been a house. The past hour had changed that quickly though, heavy blaster carbines and thermal detonators turning what had once been a reasonable settlement into a war zone. _Figures,_ Xzhar thought, _Come here to do one little thing and we get trapped inside this hellhole. _He ran his hand through his unruly shock of brown hair and scanned the street momentarily, looking for the pirates that had them hunkered down in the tight, dilapidated building. Xzhar was young, only nineteen, but the life he'd lived had prepared him for this. He was _doing_ something. Something that would make a difference in the galaxy. He slid against the wall, well out of the reach of any prying eyes.

He yelled out to one of the hired mercenaries, "Your guys check out the rest of this building yet?"

"We've got a viable exit out back," the Amaran called out from the other side of the doorway, "But it won't be clear for long!"

Xzhar nodded to himself, peering back around the corner of what had once been a durasteel-trimmed decorative window, squeezing off a few shots to the pirates unlucky enough to be peeking over their own cover within range. "Anything on the upper level?" he called out, "If we can get higher, we can undermine their position and take them out."

"Remember the mission, sir," the Amaran replied gruffly, "We're to get in, plant charges in the Comm Tower, get to the extraction point, and blow it. In and out. We don't need to be hanging around, losing more of my men by the minute."

With a frustrated sigh, Xzhar nodded, quickly jumping out of the way of the open window as a few stray blaster bolts crashed into the wall behind him with a harsh _thwuk_. Slinging his blaster rifle across his shoulder, he crossed the room, stepping into the darkness of the hallway beyond. Running perpendicular to the room he'd been shooting from, this hallway ran to a set of stairs on one side, leading to a heavily damaged and crumbling upstairs, and a few more rooms on the other.

The black-furred Amaran led him towards the latter, where a thin doorway covered with a silver durasteel door stood out from the sandy texture of the rest of the house. _Who in their right mind would want to live on Lutrillia? _he thought to himself again. It was a vast planet full of open tundra and mammoth wheeled settlements containing the planet's 800 million inhabitants. With only one primary export, the planet took in far more than it put out, focusing on mining iron ore to survive. The scarcity of life on the planet had made it, as it turned out, an outstanding secret base for pirates acting in the area, which is exactly what had brought them all here.

Following quickly behind the short creature, he crossed the alley, running between the grey-uniformed mercenaries. Each bore the same symbol on their left shoulder - a silver profile of an Amaran head on a black diamond-shaped background. This was the symbol for the Chrysocyon Mercs, a group of Amaran-led Mercenaries that had gained notoriety in the region for their ability to overcome even seemingly impossible situations. The only issue Xzhar seemed to have with the well disciplined group was their stature - each of his compatriots came only up to his chest, leaving him the tallest member of the twelve man team.

Albireo Kizen, the leader of the group, was leading them through a series of labyrinthine alleyways, led only by a small holomap marked with the location of the communications outpost. He was tall for his species, coming almost up to Xzhar's neck. His fur was a deep black color, tinted with grey along his muzzle and cheeks, giving the leader an aged appearance befitting of his position. The rest of the party followed his lead faithfully and without question, paying homage to his tactical abilities as well as how he felt about his crew.

The plan was a simple one - find the communications outpost and destroy it to cripple pirate activity in the sector. Based on information EternityCorp intelligence had received about the base, there was a large communications outpost that served as the information hub for the pirates working in the area, allowing them to coordinate their efforts, devastating trade in the entire quadrant. Their plan was to take the thirteen man team into their settlement as quietly as possible, leaving behind a white furred Amaran to pilot the craft that was to be their rescue craft, the _Hawkridge_. Known only by his callsign, Jasper, the Amaran had an easy confidence about his abilities. His brown-tipped ears and head fur gave away a bit of his youthful spirit when his flying didn't. From the little time Xzhar had spent with him, he'd shown a clear knack for carefree, almost wild flying. It was outweighed by the ease he showed at the controls, though, so that even those who didn't trust the way he flew could trust who was flying.

The cessation of blaster shots behind them made it clear the pirates were on to the group's escape. Stopping at an outlet of the alley they were traversing, Albireo and Xzhar scanned the empty road ahead of the team. The tower was just ahead, looming over them and hiding them in its deep shadow. Not wasting any time, Albireo led the group forward, spreading out evenly between the massive, open doorway of the tower. Everyone moved quickly, entering the hall from both sides and scanning for any sign of the tower's inhabitants. It seemed that anyone guarding the area had been sent to deal with them when the initial struggle broke out, as the lobby was completely deserted.

"Move out," Albireo said simply, "That turbolift should take us up to the command section."

No sooner had he said the words, than a fresh torrent of laser fire descended upon the group. "Move!" Xzhar yelled, immediately turning and firing several bursts into the hateful stream of pirates quickly moving into the lobby. The very air seemed charged as Xzhar slammed his back against the far wall of the open turbolift, rolling quickly along it as four purple bolts slammed into the wall where he had been moments before, melting and churning the thin durasteel wall. From the safety of the lift, he continued firing into the mass of pirates, laying what cover fire he could while the team scrambled to reach safety. A sickening smack and the smell of singed fur flooded the air as a young, sand colored Amaran fell prey to the pirate's blasters.

Albireo was the last one into the lift, the doors sliding shut just as a bolt tore into his shoulder. He cried out in pain, his hand immediately clutching the molten wound. He quickly tore a strip of fabric from his uniform and wrapped it around his shoulder, grunting as pressure was applied to the tender spot. Xzhar rammed the button for the highest level with his elbow, moving his way toward the front of the crowd to lay down a wave of blaster fire as the doors opened.

With a metallic whoosh, the doors slid open, much to the surprise of the few people working in the upstairs relay. Their surprise turned to terror as blaster bolts began to fly from the vengeful Amarans and human, torn over the loss of their friend. Within moments, the upper level was cleared while the Amaran tech, Dannen Korr, worked shutting down the lift. While the Amarans worked feverishly, placing charges around the room, Xzhar moved to the outside of the circular room, peering through the window at the settlement below.

"Albireo?" he called out after a moment of scrutiny.

"Hmm?" was the only mumbled reply he received. He waved the frustrated leader over and pointed to several structures on the ground. They were large, rounded buildings topped with large silver domes that didn't quite conceal sets of large, grey tubes protruding from them.

"Correct me if I'm wrong… but aren't those Anti-Aircraft turrets?"

Albireo cursed under his breath and nodded. "We'll have to modify the plan slightly," he said irritably. "Korr!" he called over his shoulder, "Think you can squeeze a few det's under that lift?"

"I suppose, but why would you want to? I thought we were going through the roof," came the confused reply.

"Yeah, so did I. Just do what you can. We need that lobby cleared twenty minutes ago."

The work continued feverishly while Xzhar moved to the main terminal. Pulling a small datastick from his vest, he plugged it into the device, quickly entering commands into the machine to activate an external memory dump to the external unit. His eyes flicked across the screen, reading the information as the terminal displayed it and wrote it to the disk - communication logs, ship manifest, tracking information. _This thing is a goldmine…_ he thought.

The terminal beeped a solitary notification, letting him know that the write process had been finished. He pulled the datastick out, then froze.

"EvacFlight, this is the infiltration team, come in EvacFlight…"

The words hung in the air, almost echoing with their significance. EvacFlight was the code name given to Jasper to signal that the team was ready for evacuation from the site. Nobody knew that information other than the team that had come to Lutrillia, and the team was far from ready to go. If the _Hawkridge_ came into the area now, it would be quickly mowed down by the anti-aircraft turrets waiting for it. There was a mole in the party, and the team was betrayed. The response that quickly followed the radio broadcast had the entire team scrambling to their radios.

"Infiltration Team, this is EvacFlight. I'm inbound. ETA… five minutes."

All around the room, the mercenaries were practically screaming into their radios, doing everything they could to abort the flight. A new window had opened on the terminal though, showing a rounded wave bouncing around a box, displaying, "SCRAMBLER ACTIVE"

A small green light lit up as the pseudo-radio replied to the _Hawkridge's_ transmission. "Roger that," it said, "Evac point is the top of the comm tower. We'll have it open by the time you get here."

Albireo threw his Radio across the room, drawing his sidearm. "Alright," He growled, "Which one of you inbred swine decided to leak information about this mission?" He looked around at the group, glaring at each in turn. He shook his head frustratedly, holstering his weapon as he growled, "Well _this _certainly exacerbates the situation."

Xzhar was only half listening, his fingers flying over the keyboard of the terminal, trying every slicing technique he could think of to shut off the radio scrambler. He cursed under his breath, continuing to plug in commands in the same, feverish pace. A hand on his arm was the only indication he received that his work had been noticed.

"I take it this is what was broadcasting?" Albireo asked gently.

Xzhar nodded, "From what I can tell, the data transfer activated a subroutine I couldn't see. They knew everything.. When we were coming, what we were doing, even the command terms we were going to use." He shook his head, "I don't think I can fix this.. It's buried deep in the programming. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."

Albireo's only response was a nod. Turning, he points to his men. "Get those charges set," he rumbled."

"How do you plan on us getting out of here?" Dannen snapped, "Or do you plan on us just blowing up with the rest of this place?"

Xzhar resisted the urge to reply to the flustered creature. These were Albireo's men, his call. He certainly didn't disappoint.

"Get that lift working. We'll drop the det's down the shaft, hopefully thin out the welcoming party a bit, then take the lift down and try to get out of range of the scrambler and keep trying to get back in contact with Jasper. If we can make it out of range, maybe we can get Jasper to abort his evac run before those turrets start powering up."

Xzhar kept his mouth shut. If the pirates knew they were coming, it didn't take much of a stretch to think that maybe they knew the _Hawkridge_ would be leading the rescue, which meant that they were likely prepared for that as well.

"We're all set, sir." A russet-colored Amaran spoke up.

Albireo only nodded, then looked back to Dannen. "Are we set?" he asked, glaring at the short tech.

"As set as we can be.. Let's hope the control circuits aren't damaged in this lift, though, otherwise this trip is going to be real short."

"Keep it to yourself, Korr," Albireo retorted.

"Guys…" Xzhar said, eying out the window, "I think we better get moving…" A silver shape was looming on the horizon, betraying the approach of their only way offworld.

Suddenly, everything seemed to slow down. Dannen released his grip on the grenades, dropping them down the dark shaft to the unsuspecting pirates below. Moments later, a muffled explosion resounded throughout the building. Everyone piled into the lift as Albireo hit the button from the ground floor.

The lift didn't move. Instead, a low honking sound emanated from the control panel, realizing everyone's fears. The panel in the back of the turbolift had housed its rapidly decaying control mechanism, but after the fire fight downstairs, that panel was charred and half melted, emanating a thick, bluish smoke. The lift could not and would not move. For the first time, hints of fear crossed the faces of the mercenary team as they looked around for each other, each one hoping for a plan to save themselves.

Albireo kept his cool, quickly formulating a plan to try to ensure the survival of everyone on the team. He looked around, his black eyes quickly scanning everything in the room, trying to find something, anything to use for cover. Xzhar stepped forward, tugging at one of the terminals to see if they would move.

"Couldn't we just deactivate the explosives?" a shorter, young looking Amaran asked.

Dannen's response was quick, "It wouldn't have done us much good for the pirates to just come up on the lift and deactivate everything would it?" He shook his head, "No. Once those charges were set, we were committed to seeing the task through, no matter what the outcome." Somber silence was the only response.

Outside the window, turbolaser batteries were warming up, their gyroscopic housings already swiveling to take out the incoming _Hawkridge_. Xzhar quickly returned to the main console, his fingers once again pegging away at the terminal, trying to find some way to remotely shut down the anti-aircraft turbolasers. Try after try resulted in a failure though. As he looked out the window, a bright purple flash shot heavenward, narrowly missing the _Hawkridge_'s wing. The craft swerved to avoid the shot even as more laced heavenward, a beautiful but devastating display.

A russet-colored Amaran approached Xzhar, looking at what he was trying to do. "Any luck?" He asked.

Xzhar could only shake his head in response, chewing on his lower lip as he kept working feverishly. His eyes flicked between the screen and the terminal screen, hoping beyond hope that Jasper would turn the ship around or somehow make it past the rivers of energy spreading unceasingly towards it.

Suddenly, the sound of the terminal's radio broke the silence. "It's too hot out here guys!" Came Jasper's torn exclamation, "I don't think I can make it to you. I'm going to try and turn back and find another way in!" Radios crackled around the room as the team desperately tried to contact their friend, to give some sort of warning not to come yet. The terminal's scrambler still pulsed though, the small image in the upper left of the display standing out as almost a beacon of failure for the group. Either way, the job would be done, but was it worth the cost?

The radio crackled to life again as a stream of thick, churning smoke betrayed the _Hawkridge_'s condition. "I'm hit!" screamed Jasper over the comm, "I don't think I'm going to make it back after all… I don't know who's still alive over there, but if you can hear me I'm going to try to graze right over the top of the tower, maybe try to pull of some semblance of a rescue…"

Albireo's eyes bulged as he cursed again under his breath. "He'll never make it," he said, "And even if he does, there is no way he could slow the ship down enough to get us out!" Still, he crossed to the window, watching earnestly as the ship drew ever closer. "Everyone on the roof," he said finally, "If he can make it, we'll try to be there."

Xzhar shook his head, "I'm going to keep trying to override the command protocols."

The russet Amaran, still standing next to Xzhar, spoke up next, hefting his rifle, "I'll make sure none of those pirates can get back up here and tamper with the explosives. You go chief. We'll hold the fort."

Albireo could only nod in response, sharing a brief moment of intense eye contact with his friend. The Amaran simply nodded, then turned to watch as Dannen sliced through the ceiling of the tower, opening a hole to the roof.

"Are you sure about this?" Xzhar asked gently, "Odds are we won't be getting out of here…"

The Amaran nodded simply and smiled, "Someone's got to keep you safe, right?" He lifted his gun as if it were some sort of trophy, "Might as well be me."

Xzhar could only nod, admiring the young mercenary's bravery. He continued typing away, but looked back, watching the last of the furred tails disappearing through the hole to safety. Suddenly a chime alerted him that one of his commands had gone through. His head whipped back around, looking at the screen, "ACCESS GRANTED" displayed across the terminal in bright green letters. Quickly he searched for a command to power down the turrets, looking around his terminal at the approaching ship. The angle looked right so far, but he was still half a minute out. He entered the command to shut down all the defense systems, the recurring chime another indication that the command had been entered successfully. He looked up proudly at the ship, his triumphant smile fading quickly into a look of horror as a purple bolt tore through the starboard wing, shearing it off. The _Hawkridge_ flipped, plummeting quickly into an uncontrolled dive, heading straight for the tower.

"Brace yourself!" Xzhar yelled, ducking behind the terminal moments before a heavy metallic screech filled the air. The next thing he knew, the entire tower pitched forward and dropped. Both Xzhar and the Amaran were thrown backwards, flung against terminals. Xzhar finally landed flat on his back in the lift as explosions ripped through the floor of the tower, sending bits of durasteel and electrical components flying in every direction. It was the last thing he saw before everything faded to black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dad, what does a motivator do?" Xzhar asked, carefully soldering the interior assembly of an astromech droid together. Xzhar was only eight, but he'd quickly picked up some skill with electronics and droids. He'd studied under his father since he showed an affinity for it, learning how to build, troubleshoot, and repair the complicated machines.

Ollaren smiled at his son looking up from the terminal readout he had been studying. He had a long, intelligent face, drawn with faint signs of age. His brown hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, stray strands framing his steely grey eyes and backed by thin features and thick brows. "Well, Xzhar," he said, "What does motivation do?"

Xzhar shrugged, thinking to himself for a few moments before answering. "I guess it's what makes people want to do stuff.. Right?"

That's right," Ollaren said with a proud smile, "Motivation is the desire to do something. So what do you think that would mean for a droid?"

"It makes the droid want to do stuff? Like follow commands?"

Ollaren laughed warmly, something Xzhar loved about his father. No matter what was going on around them, his father was always optimistic and high-spirited. It made Xzhar feel safer when he was around. "Almost! You see, a droid works on electrical energy, right?" Ollaren waited for his son to nod before continuing, "So when a droid needs to move and use mechanical energy, that energy has to be converted from the electrical energy the droid typically uses. That's what the motivator does - it converts the electricity."

Xzhar nodded. It made sense… mostly. "Why not just call it a power converter if that's all it does?" he asked.

"A power converter is essentially the same concept, but they aren't as limited. Motivators are typically rather small so they can fit on droids. Power converters, though, can be almost any size and can do a myriad of other conversion based on how it's built. Motivators are all types of power converters.. But not all power converters are motivators."

Xzhar nodded and turned back to the electrical assembly he was working on, soldering the main capacitors together. His father's words had made sense for the most part, it was just hard to think of a power converter as a classification for a component rather than the component itself.

Ollaren smiled, watching Xzhar work. "Why don't you go ask your mother what she wants for dinner?" He asked, "It's getting late."

Xzhar grinned, hopping off his stool. "Yes sir," he said simply in reply, then ran out of the small workshop, crossing past the stairwell that led up into the living area and into the front of the shop where his mother and brother were.

Perth was still too young to be much help in the shop, so he tended to stay in the front of the shop where Vivianna, their mother, could keep an eye on him. Vivianna was tall and thin, with a rounded face and long, elegantly curled brown hair. Her bangs were arranged attractively across her forehead.

"Hey mom!" Xzhar called out to her, "Dad wants to know what you want for dinner." Stepping next to her, he smiled innocently, "You know… there is that new Nubian place down by the plaza. We've never gone there."

Vivianna turned and smiled softly at Xzhar, her blue eyes shining. "That sounds fine with me," she said, "As long as there's something for Perth there an-"

Xzhar had interrupted her excitedly, "Oh I'm sure there's a kids menu or something there for him!"

Vivianna held out a disapproving finger at him and shook her head. "No interrupting," she said, "You know better." She continued smiling softly as she finished her sentence, "Check with your father and make sure he's okay with it too."

Xzhar nodded, quickly running back to the workshop to talk to his father, practically bowling him over in the doorway. "Mom said that new Nubian place was sounded good and we should go there!" Xzhar said excitedly.

"I did not!" came the sweet voice of Xzhar's mother, entwined with a pleasant chuckle. Obviously, she had been listening in, suspecting such a betrayal. Before Xzhar could escape, she was behind him, pinning him between his parents. He tried squeezing between them and escaping, but his flesh prison only grew tighter when he tried.

Ollaren smiled at his wife affectionately and leaned in to kiss her. "Noooo!" Xzhar squealed, pressing against their legs and trying to getaway from the overly affectionate couple. "How can you just… EEW!" he complained, still shoving against them. He glared at Perth as his brother pointed an infant finger at him and giggled, utterly amused by his older brother's cruel and unusual confinement.

His parents kissed again, seemingly unphased by Xzhar's attempts to dispel the evident cloud of affection he was choking on. He pushed again hard, trying to squeeze between his mother's knees, when she moved abruptly, spilling him headlong onto the floor. "Finally!" he groaned, mocking them. He rolled over and sat up, looking at his parents as if they were disgusting, primal creatures.

"Nubian it is then?" his father asked, trying to hide the smile growing on his face.

Xzhar pumped both fists into the air and shouted "Success!" He fell back against the floor happily, utterly pleased to have gotten his way.

"Go get ready," his mother told him, a bemused smile gracing her soft, sweet face. With a happy squeal, he jumped up and ran up the stairs into the living section of the house, hurrying to the refresher to wash up.

It didn't take long to get everyone ready for their night-time expedition. Work clothes were changed to more proper attire, and everyone groomed themselves. "It's always important that no matter where you are or what you do, you do your best to look presentable," his father had told him once. He always seemed to have a way with words, knowing exactly what to say. With a few words, he could make his son feel like he held the very galaxy in his hands. He knew his parents didn't have much - the shop they ran paid for their daily needs and added a few spare credits to the family bank account, but it was nothing like the corporate giants around the galaxy were boasting. Odds were he would grow up and inherit the shop, continuing the legacy of honest business his parents had started on Taris.

Minutes later, the family met in the front of the shop, wearing trim but worn tunics and boots. His mother wore an outdated yet elegant dress of shimmersilk, while his father had elected A nice brown tunic with a green vest to offset it. He smiled approvingly at Xzhar's chosen blue and black combination, then ushered the family out the door.

Ollaren was the last to leave, tugging swiftly on the long lever that controlled the shop's main entrance. The lever itself had always seemed weird to Xzhar - nothing like what his father had been able to buy. He could have used a remote, a button, even a voice detection module, but instead he had opted for the decorative lever. It was a long silver tube with thick black rings along the top going about a third of the way down the chromium expanse. This separated a small section with several buttons and a small box, ending in three black rings and an angled tip to match the wall. Xzhar had always considered the look of the buttons to be weird and unnecessary in the lever, but he'd never been able to investigate - he was still too short to reach the lever. Ollaren had promised him a few months ago, though, that when he was old enough he'd let him start closing up the shop. Of course it was a simple thing to anyone else, but to Xzhar it was in incredible responsibility.

The family walked along the lamp-lined durasteel walkway that crisscrossed their sector of the city-wide planet. His father had once explained that the city was divided into three main levels of city, where the different classes lived and went about their lives. In the Upper City district where Xzhar and his family lived, the people around were typically middle class workers, doing the more menial tasks for the more elite citizens within the city. Through hard work and determination, they had all earned their place in this district, rising up from the poor of the Undercity by putting forth hard work every day. "You should never look down on someone with less, though," He had explained that day, "Sometimes those who seem to be the absolute lowest of people can inspire the greatest change." He had smiled at his son and explained, "We are all citizens of this galaxy, whether Bith, Muun, Human, or Twi'lek, and we are all capable of incredible things. Just because one person had less didn't mean they weren't worth just as much or anymore than you."

Truly they had been lucky to live in the sector they did, if the past month had been any indication. A turf war had broken out in one of the lesser districts reserved for refugees and had claimed the lives of hundreds of innocents before the local security forces could stop it. Ollaren had carefully explained that families had been destroyed and immeasurable pain had been caused by the actions of a few greedy gang members wanting a higher power within their group.

Things hadn't been easy since the ultimate collapse of the Republic. Xzhar hadn't been there to witness it, but his father had always talked about it with a deep reverence and respect. The representatives, as he had explained it, had become so focused on their own power and agendas that the entire system had become rife with corruption. It hadn't taken long for the Star Systems who had made the Republic so strong to pull out. With a lack of support, the Republic had quietly drawn into itself, now only occupying, as rumor had it, a small section in the deep core. The rest of the galaxy had been left to fend for itself, growing planetary armies and forming more archaic alliances with nearby systems and trade partners. Even the Jedi, he had explained, once a strong and powerful force for justice throughout the galaxy, had faded into little more than children's stories and legends to be told by fires and bedsides.

Life had continued on, though, the galaxy showing the vibrant pulse of life within the Force, refusing to simply sputter out. With the sporadic alliances that had formed and spread throughout the Galaxy, life had continued. Times were hard for everyone, but with grit and determination, the galaxy had pushed forward. It wasn't always an easy or happy life, but, as his father had put it, "You can't write your own hand in the galaxy.. You have to do the best you can with what you have."

The Nubian restaurant boasted a menu of delicate fruits and vegetables, imported all the way from the farms in the Sovereign planet of Naboo. Xzhar and his family ate heartily, enjoying the rare menu. When everyone had finally eaten their fill, Ollaren leaned back. "I suppose we should all get back home," He said with a smile to Xzhar, "I'm sure Xzhar here is eager to get back to work on his astro droid." Xzhar only grinned and nodded at his father and the family got up, paying for their meal and walking back out into the cold night.

Though the city had advanced climate control mechanisms to ensure healthy weather, the nights were cold as winter started to hit the city. The wind picked up as they traversed the durasteel platform. All the streets in this area of the city were lifted as much as fifty kilometers above the ground. The buildings towered over the Upper City where Xzhar and his family lived, rising up over one hundred kilometers into the sky. Xzhar had never been to any of the wealthier districts, but Ollaren promised him that when he was a year or two older, he would take him to see some of the great museums and libraries that graced them.

As they reached home, Ollaren opened the shop door, ushering the family inside and out of the rapidly cooling outside. Xzhar ran upstairs and changed quickly, shrugging his way out of his clothes and quickly dressing into clothes he could work in. Without so much as another thought to his looks, he ran back down the stairs, swinging around the door frame into the work shop and over to his stool. He sat down and picked up his fusing pen, connecting the conduits within the circuits of his droid. Ollaren walked over to stand behind his son, looking over his shoulder to see his work.

"What do you think, Dad?" Xzhar asked, leaning back in his stool so Ollaren could see

"It looks good," He remarked, "But why have you worked in two power control modules? You only need the one."

Xzhar grinned. He was hoping his dad would notice. "Well," He explained, "Usually the droids we fix have fried power control modules, so I worked in a fail safe so that if one of these modules fails, it switches to solely work with the other and lights up a little light… here." Xzhar had grabbed the dome that would be shortly attached to the droid, pointing out a small light on the main control display. While most droids communicated solely with droid-speak, Xzhar had created a second notification system for his personal droid, working in several rows of lights in a small silver panel on the back of the dome.

Ollaren nodded thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "That's a really good idea, Xzhar… did you come up with that yourself?"

Nodding excitedly, he explained, "I thought maybe it would make it need less maintenance if it had a few built in quirks like this."

His father pat him on the shoulder and smiled approvingly. "It's good work," he explained, "and it's a really good idea. This shop is going to be in good hands!" Xzhar could only grin, reveling in his father's praise.

Xzhar's grin, though, was short lived. A cold chill seemed to encompass him, causing him to shiver. He looked around, confused as to what had caused it.

"Do you feel that too?" Ollaren asked, a look of concern crossing his face as he watched his son's reaction. Xzhar nodded, watching his father for some sign of what was going on. His father's face was distant, though, as if his thoughts and mind were elsewhere. "You remember where we told you to go whenever something bad happened?" he asked, looking finally to his son.

"Yeah it's.."

"Good. Go there," Ollaren interrupted, "Now. Where is your brother?"

Xzhar stuttered, starting to get scared. He'd never been told to go into the small safe room, even though they'd all practiced as a family together. He didn't understand what a malfunctioning climate unit could actually cause that would warrant it's use. "He's upstairs in bed I think." He said finally, quickly moving to the back of the shop where a thick, durasteel grate covered an old exhaust vent. Ollaren helped Xzhar to remove the heavy cover, then replaced it after him.

"No matter what happens," Ollaren said, "Don't move. I'll be back with Perth and your mother in just a minute."

Xzhar nodded, curling into a ball against the cold wall. Ollaren quickly moved away, out of sight of Xzhar and the thin lines drawn into the durasteel panel. He heard his parents talking quickly for a moment, then everything turned dark.

With the failing of the lights, everything became completely silent. The cold feeling seemed to grip Xzhar in a vice, holding him so that he couldn't escape. It grew steadily in pressure as the moments passed. Without warning, a sizzling sound reached his ears, seemingly coming from the front of the shop. Craning his ear against the wall of the shaft, he listened closely. The front door slid open with a hiss, followed quickly by an angry, metallic hissing. The little light flowing into Xzhar's hiding space took on a deep red hue, then shifted to purple as two more hisses followed. He tried to make sense of the sounds he was hearing as the hissing turned to sputtering and clashing.

Suddenly, he heard his mother cry out as if in pain, then the voice of his father call out, "Vivianna!" It didn't sound like his father though. It was hurt… Broken…

Before Xzhar could make sense of what he could hear, the sizzling and popping ceased, replaced by the soft metallic thrum that had started up moments earlier. Flashes of red light crossed in front of his hiding space and heavy boots thudded against the shop floor. It seemed as if someone was searching the room, though he didn't know what he could be searching for. _Why hadn't Ollaren come back? Where was Perth?_ Xzhar tucked his knees to his chest, barely breathing. He suddenly felt empty, as if something had been taken away from him forever. It didn't make sense, though… He knew his father would return in just a few moments. Any moment now, his mother would be there, smiling at him and comforting him, telling him everything would be alright. But _where were they?_

Xzhar felt weak and heavy. The red light that had shown through the slots in the vent had long since gone away. _Nobody had come for him._ He couldn't get out on his own - he wasn't strong enough to lift the heavy pane. _Where are mom and dad?_ Something couldn't be right. Ollaren had been gone too long - the house was too quiet. _What is going on?_ Xzhar couldn't make sense of anything. His thoughts seemed to be circling around him at one hundred miles an hour until, slowly, sleep overtook him.


End file.
